Bleeding Swords
by Essenceofcrazy
Summary: The Saxon Cedric has a daughter and a son. How will she react when he is killed? What will she do to Arthur and his Knights? Who will die? Who will live? Fate plays a game.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights. Sadly…

AN: I will update with every 4 reviews I receive, so the more reviews the more chapters I write. Thanks and enjoy.

R'han stood, her back facing the great Saxon army that shifted with great unease. The stink of body odor wafted her nostrils and she grimaced darkly. Men, disgusting. Bow in hand she walked forward approaching the quiet bearded man.

"The Knights have left their commander behind but they will return. I am sure of it. Stupid, yes, cowardly no. They will fight and they will loose."

The Saxon grinned at his young daughter. His yellow teeth blending in with his unruly beard. He had been astonished when the young girl had shown fighting ability and was proud that at least one of his offspring was more then a waste of flesh. He grimaced at the thought of his failure of a son. He would never admit it, but he wished him dead, he was a disgrace and with R'han's potential and ruthlessness he didn't need his son anymore.

The Saxon looked towards his daughters retreating back, "When the time comes R'han, you will kill the Britain; a traitor is never trusted twice."

The men of the front line took an involuntary step back after seeing the Saxon woman's deadly smile, "It will be my pleasure father, he was but a sniveling man."

Arthur breathed deeply, the scent of smoke and burnt grass tickling his nose as he rode through the gates and approached the lone Saxon. His thought traveled briefly to Guinevere, his worry momentarily clouding his judgment. He prayed then, for the last time, to his god he asked for the protection of her and his knights, and the chance for freedom of them both.

"Arthur. Wherever I go on this wretched island, I hear your name.  
Always half whispered, as if you were a... god."

Arthur watched carefully as he circled the Saxon, noticing out of the corner of his eye a ruby haired woman approach them both.

The woman spoke confidently, standing beside the Saxon, her chin titled up defiantly and her bow readied with an arrow pointed at Arthur, "All I see is flesh, blood. No more god than the creature he's sitting on."

With a casual grace he watched her aim take a new target, the large tree. Setting the arrow loose he spared a second glance at the now dead body that had fallen from the tree, an arrow protruding from the mans Adams apple.

Arthur spoke his green eyes stone like, "Speak your terms, Saxon."

The woman spoke again her British accent stronger than a regular Saxons, "The Romans have left you. What are you fighting for?"

Arthur stared crossly at the woman before pulling forth Excalibur, "I fight for a cause beyond Rome's or your understanding"

The woman's eyes lit up with what one would guess was merriment, "Ah." Was her simply reply.

"You've come to beg a truce. You should be on your knees." Said Cedric wryly.

Arthur's gaze turned hot and angry, and R'han could see the tension in his body shift and move, he wanted to fight and R'han found her heart pounding with anticipation. "I came to see your face, so that I alone may find you on the battlefield, and it would be good for you if you marked my face, Saxon, for the next time you see it, it will be the last thing you see on this earth."

R'han stiffened with the threat to her father's life. True that it would be unaccomplished but it was a threat the same. Her father however seemed pleased with the mans words. Turning away he motioned for R'han to follow him as Arthur rode through the gates once more. "Ah Finally. A man worth killing."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights. Sadly…

Thank You For the Review! I hope to have more, spread the love people!

Cedric paced lightly, his leather boots digging into the wet earth. He turned to his son, "Send what's left of your infantry."

R'han looked at her father questionably, knowing this meant death for her brother's men. Unwisely her brother began to argue, "You want to kill my men?"

"They're **my** men!" shouted Cedric before looking at R'han, "You will stay by me, kill anyone who approaches. I will kill Arthur; you are responsible for killing the remaining Knights."

R'han nodded holding her staff in two hands. Its razor ends glinting in Britain's dim light. Listening carefully with amusement in her eyes at the sound of her brother's once great infantry being slaughtered. Snorting loudly when the great metal doors opened, only one man entering, bloody and disorientated. Cedric nodded towards him as he approached, he spoke few words before R'han brought down her staff, cutting his throat.

"Father…" began R'han as the silent Sarmatian Knight approached.

Cedric nodded, his smile was sadistic, "Go, play…"

R'han smiled bowing shortly with respect to her father before stepping in front of him, blocking the scout's path. "So you're the silent Knight that's got everyone's knickers in a twist. I don't see why, you look like just another worthless man to me."

She could see the eyes of the scout through his braided hair blaze with apathetic pleasure, "Than that is the first mistake you make. I am not a man, I am your enemy."

"Wise words from a dead man, tell me when I kill you may I take your tongue? Feel free not to answer, I plan to do it anyway."

The knight did not speak, instead only drawing forth his sword, both hands holding the hilt his eyes not leaving R'han's figure but his mind taking in his surroundings. She attacked first, her staff making contact with his blade, lighting running down its length, taunting him. Shortly after drawing it back to block the swords deadly decent towards her neck. Agility being the key, she swung her staff, turning in the last minute and jutting it forward. The razor end connecting with his side, blood began to roll from the opened skin as he stumbled back. Checking it he winced and held his sword up once more.

"Again," he stated.

They continued on, the scout fighting well but dropping his sword during their fight. R'han who was despite the Saxon reputation, honorable let him pick it up. But it would be to no avail as she soon disarmed him once more. Leaving him to try and climb away as R'han picked up the oriental blade admiring its marksmanship and vintage. "This is a beautiful blade Sarmatian. It is only fair that you die by it."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights. Sadly…

Thank You for the Reviews! I hope to have more, spread the love people!

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R'han lifted the curved sword shoulder height preparing to end the life of the suffering Knight. Glancing over her shoulder with little reservation she felt her blood run cold as she stared at the scene that would haunt her for months to come. Her father kneeling before the roman commander, Arthur.

Dropping the sword she left the Knight to bleed out thinking the chance of his survival was slim to none. A scream of anguish penetrated the sounds of battle as R'han watched her father fall to the ground dead. She barely recognized that the pained noise had come from her own throat.

"Father," she choked out as she fell to his side. His eyes open with death his blood slowly filling the earths wet ground. Her father's sword lay by his motionless body, shining and smeared with blood.

Picking it up she stumbled slightly, her anger blinding her common sense. "Arthur!" she cried. She was facing his back which had began to slump under the fatigue of battle, her hair was wild and her eyes to cold for any human. Pointing her father's sword at his back she spoke once more, "Once again you Romans have taken from me, but this time you shall pay."

Arthur turned in surprise, this girl, this Saxon, must be mad. He rolled his shoulders back, feeling a slight pang of guilt at the pain that distorted her normally attractive face. He had killed her father, and she wanted revenge. He knew what it was like to lose a parent to a war that was not your own. He knew it to well, "I protect what is mine. I am of Rome no longer; to kill me would be pointless."

R'han growled loudly. Noticing the bloodied Sarmatian knights surrounding her and Arthur, waiting for his word to end her life. He glanced towards his men, "Harm her not Knights. She wants to avenge her father."

R'han stepped forward, gripping her father's sword tightly in her hands. Vaguely realizing that she couldn't fight with a sword half as well as with her staff she mentally screamed at her ignorance.

Arthur met her, standing no more than three feet away. She swung the sword with out warning, catching the future king of Britain off guard. He blocked harshly and pushed the blade aside. He had seen her fight his scout and knew he would not take her challenge lightly.

Turning slightly he was able to cut her side, the blood on his blade mixing with that of her own. They fought on, mostly evenly matched both receiving and giving tiny cuts to the others body and pride. Arthur could see her rage growing with the increasing sting or pain, and the blood drained from his face as he fell to the ground, a dying Saxon knocking him off his feet. He lay there prone as she approached.

The wind was knocked out of him and his head spun with the impact to the cold wet ground. She was standing over him, eyes cold and almost radiating with the need for death. Her booted foot slammed into his chest. He could feel his lungs strain with fatigue. She lifted the blade to his throat, preparing to bring it down upon his esophagus.

"The gods will forgive you," breathed Arthur.

R'han who was startled by the comment pause her killing blow, the pain at once returning with the ending euphoria of her adrenaline rush. The ground beneath her feet began to lurch forwards suddenly and she dropped her father's sword. Looking around her, the land seemed to spin as she fell to her knees, finally noticing the bodies of her fallen warriors. Her stomach heaved and she clutched her stomach in pain.

_So this is what it's like to die, I will see you once more sister_, she thought. "Saveage."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights…sadly…

Author Note: Thank you for the reviews and I should have the next chapter posted by Tuesday, if you're lucky Monday. I am holding a poll, which knight will win fair ladies heart?

Knightmaiden: thank you for your reviews! You rock. And did you know there is a Tristan movie coming out? Anyway, I was reading your fanfictions today...and I might have an idea. So far I have one vote for Tristan romance and one vote for anyone but Arthur…hmm…I will keep the poll going.

Shtoofi: Thank you for the reviews and keep reading my story. You know you should write some fanfictions also!

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"You kept her alive!" screamed the angered Sarmatian "she nearly kills both you and Tristan and you bring her here to mend_ her _wounds. She's a Saxon Arthur. Cedric's daughter!"

Arthur's green eyes roamed the female Saxons figure, covered by large furs; she looked almost small and delicate. Arthur's mind once again flashed with visions from yesterday's battle. She was not delicate or small. In fact she was one of the least fragile women he had ever met. "Lower your voice Galahad. This is not the time or the place for angry words. I brought her back for the simple reason that she _did not _kill either myself or Tristan. She had opportunity and motivation, I am lucky to be breathing now."

"You can't be serious Arthur, she is a _Saxon_ have you not listened to anything I have said?" cried Galahad. His face turning red as his teeth ground together.

"Leave Galahad and check on Lancelot. Our discussion ends here," Arthur's voice was thin with frustration as he watched Galahad's angry form retreating through the doorway. Groaning he took a seat at the end of the bed, looking once more at its inhabitant, "Now what will I do with you?"

_Pain, lots of pain, _was among the first thoughts that registered to R'han as she shifted slightly in the soft bed. Her eyes peeling open quickly as she acknowledged her unknown surroundings slowly. Her throat was dry and her mouth felt like she had drank from the suns core. Her eyes blinded by the sunlight from the window, closed once more, not seeing the figure standing by her bed.

"You're awake," spoke a male voice. It was old and husky and sounded as if the person had been screaming for to long. R'han coughed and lifted slightly when the owner of the voice drew forth something smooth and metal to her lips. Cool liquid began to burn her throat as the cup was tilted back. A strong hand holding her weak and heavy head up.

R'han opened her eyes her gaze falling upon an older man painted with blue and green. _Woads. _R'han began struggling; spitting the liquid out as if it was poisoned. Seeing her distrust the old Woad spoke softly, a calming wave emanating from his very being. "Calm yourself R'han, there is no need for resistance. We are here to help you."

The room began to swim with mixed colors, closing her eyes; R'han was able to once again stop the dizziness that plagued her. "Kill me now Woad because when I am well I will not hesitate to kill you."

There was a deep chuckle from the figure and R'han, if possible would have grasped her head in pain at its loudness. Fate was never without her irony, as a loud crash sounded from the hall. A string of curses following it before the door swung open. At the sound of the noise R'han sat up quickly, her eyes widening from fear to pain as her stitches were ripped. The white furs stained. She became dizzy once more and silently cursed herself for sitting up.

The Woad looked to the intruder with great annoyance, "Go get Guinevere, she needs to stitch the wound once more." The young Woad nodded quickly and scrambled out the doorway Merlin's order repeating in his head.

R'han closed her eyes once more lying back slowly wincing with the pain. Sounds became muffled, distant. The same deep old voice spoke once more, "The time for you is near R'han, will you fight or run?"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights…sadly…

Author Note: Thank you for the reviews, I'm sorry that this is so short but I was sick for forever in lost the flow for this chapter. I will write another chapter soon. Much longer I promise!

:drum roll please:

Knightmaiden: A New Life…well first off, where do you want to go with this story? Happy ending? Sad? If you know how you want it to end then it gets easier. But I beg you Update any story! I like reading your work. Thank you for the review and I sent you the website for the Tristan Movie!

Fuzzy Makes Me Happy: Thank you for the review!

Shtoofi: Thank you for the review once again and you can vote for who R'han falls in love with. But so far you will be the 3rd vote so things might change.

* * *

Opening her eyes R'han was blessed with the good fortune of having an empty room. The dull ache in her side had yet to subside completely, but graced her with a few moments of numbness. Careful of her newly stitched side she sat up. Wincing as the pain returned full source. Biting her lower lip she was not surprised when the taste of blood met her tongue.

R'han was faced with a harsh reality. The only way to escape was to run and running would be painful. With a small amount of rage she flipped the fur blanket off her weakened legs. Using her arms as leverage she slipped her legs off the bed. Hissing loudly as her bare feet came into contact with the cold floor, cautiously she stood. Leaning against the wall as waves of exhaustion hit her, covering her body in sweat.

She began her escape, _Maybe they'll kill me while I'm at it,_ she mused thinking of the release that death would bring as she slowly slide along the wall, mindful of her wound. Moving at a turtles pace she began to doubt her plan for escape. Where would she go?

* * *

There was a dull thump and a string of curses that woke Tristan from his fevered slumber. His brown eyes snapped open, alertness finding him even with his injured state. Heavy breathing pinpointed the intruder's location and he lifted his head slightly. Trying to view the source of disturbance.

His eyes fell upon a slumped figure of the floor. A female figure to be more exact. Her curtain of red hair falling over her face as she held her self up. Crying out quietly when she tried to steady herself once more. His mind flared with recognition. There had been only to places in which hair as red as fire had stayed to his memory. One was obviously Varona, for she had been at the fort for years, and the second, _No, its impossible Arthur would never…_

Tristan was otherwise distracted by the noise from the hallway, a great shout and the sounds of running men. _"Have you seen the woman that was in the neighboring room?"_

There was a muffled hushed response in which even Tristan's ears could not pick up. Arthur's voice once again spoke loudly, "_Aye the Saxon lass."_

Tristan watched astonished as the young women stood once more, legs wobbling slightly under the weight of her own body as she inched slowly to the doorway.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights…sadly…

Author Note: Ok! Here is my longer chapter for all you lovely readers! I feel bad for slaking off on the last chapter but it was not going anywhere!

ZELINIA: Thank you for the review and I saw some advertisements for the movie! I can't wait till it comes out!

"I ask you once again Saxon, what is your name?" the angered future King of Britain had spoken to Merlin only to be declined the information. It was in her right, and hers alone to give away such a personal thing. How Merlin knew it was beyond Arthur's comprehension when he was in such a state of anger.

"And I tell you once again half breed, that I care not what you ask." Her voice was cold and calm, reminding Arthur of his scout who sat across the room. The interrogation had been going for hours, Arthur was trying to discover anything about this woman, and he was failing miserably. _What would Lancelot do? _thought the stoic leader. _Probably try to seduce the wench. _Looking towards the girl's angry stiff form Arthur resisted the urge to laugh. _Defiantly not a bright idea._

After the recovery of his scout only the sleeping Lancelot remained. His wounds much more serious than that of the scout. Arthur found himself at a loss for words at the feeling of loneliness without his best friend.

"Call her wench, for she is little more than that," spoke Bors.

There was a growl that could be compared to that of the lions that Arthur had once seen in the pits of Rome, it came as no surprise to discover it was from the Saxon woman.

Spitting at Bors, Arthur watched in amazement as the large drunken man laughed, "My name is my own, Sarmatian just as the numbers you have given to your children are their own. Though the fact you can count is a miracle from one of your Gods."

Bors's laughter stopped short, "How ye know bout me bastards?"

The Saxon smiled viciously, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Dodging a flying wine glass Arthur was impressed at the young woman's dexterity as she slipped away from not only from the wine glass but from the lumbering, quick footed Bors, who lunged her way.

"Bors sit down now. She only wishes to get a rise out of you," spoke the youngest of the Knights, Gawain.

A flaming eyebrow rose beneath her mane of hair, "And it obviously did, didn't _pup."_

Again the great hall was disturbed with commotion, Galahad holding back his friend from inuring the woman. "Then we shall call you Saveage for you said it before you fell."

R'han's gaze faltered. The other knights mistaking the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes as a trick of the light, "You will not speak that name again," whispered R'han.

Arthur who had not clearly heard her asked, "Excuse me?"

"I said you will speak that name naught again!"

Tristan's stone like face loosened. Delighting in watching Arthur hit a nerve of the girl, an obviously open, tender nerve. He was not one to normally take pleasure in others pain but tonight, he would make an exception. Death he did enjoy giving, but pain always seemed too personal. He was not one to get personal with his enemies. However, it seemed only fair that with the physical pain she had caused him, a little pain was only rightly deserved.

"Saveage that is of Sarmatian tongue, is it not?" Tristan voice was deep husky; nothing like it had been in battle.

R'han turned to him, looking him over with disdain. "I see I forgot to cut your tongue out, a mistake I won't make again. I promise you."

Authors Note: Hides from angry people. Listen I'm only a Sadist on Tuesdays honestly….I will update again soon. I have ideas that will start…the…:shifty eyes: romance…:runs away with maniacal laughter:


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur or his Knights…sadly…though one offered me his soul...

Author Note: Ok! Here is my longer chapter for all you lovely readers! I didn't get a lot of reviews for the last chapter but that's ok…I will hope and threaten

* * *

A knock at the door disturbed R'han from her sleep, though the dream was one she hated; she silently confessed that any dream would be better than to look upon the Sarmatian Knights and their commander Arthur.

The knocking continued as if waiting for a response, stubbornly R'han gave none. "Listen lass, I'll be coming in here whether you like it or not so tell me, should I have a weapon ready or will you be so kind as to speak."

The voice was feminine but strong with a twang that demanded attention. Tenaciously R'han spoke, "Enter."

There was the distinct sound of a key in a lock and wood scraping wood as the quiet voice of excited and curious children alerted R'han to who spoke to her. _Bors lover._

As the door swung open R'han was greeted by a women with a full head of hair much alike to her own, and the faces of two small children clinging to their mothers skirts. R'han held back a smile, if she was anywhere else she would admit to finding it quite…sweet.

"My name is Varona and this here," she said pointing to the one on her left, a girl with long brown hair and amber eyes, "is seven and this is six."

The boy to her right, who though older seemed more fearful, cringed when R'han's eyes fell on him, the girl who showed a more curious personality stepped forward a bit, her face glowing with questions.

"Is it true that you fought Tristan?" she asked.

R'han merely nodded, her hair falling into her face and covering her left eye. She would not hide, what she fought for went beyond who she killed and didn't kill.

The boy spoke up, "Do you hate us?"

Caught of guard R'han looked to Varona who had silenced her children with a shooing sound and push towards the door. "Go bother yah father."

The children quickly left leaving R'han questioning their presence in the first place. The door though open was guarded by Arthur himself who had stood away trying to give the women a false sense of privacy. R'han could feel her skin tingle with distrust, the entire fort was practically buzzing with it.

"I'm to bring ya to the baths, by Arthur's orders. No funny business now I've got no patience for any childish behavior, I deal with it enough from my bastards, you understand?"

R'han simply nodded the idea of a bath appealing to her dirty unwashed body greatly. She knew when to fight and when to bite her tongue, the chance of losing a bath was not something even she would mess up. Following the now chattering Varona as she walked through the door she noticed two Knights flank her. Arthur in back while the others armed, stood as close and as far away as possible.

The fort was warm and almost homelike in its construction. Rome's emblems had been removed and new crests were being put up. Arthur's reign was beginning and his British people where in a state of great anticipation. The group approached the baths, Varona continuing on with R'han and the two knights.

Stopping quickly R'han turned to the Knight at her left, "Is it typical of Arthur's men to watch enemies bathe or are you just making an exception?"

The blond Knight merely shoved her forward with his right hand, "Clean yourself Saxon your stink makes me sick."

R'han smiled wickedly, this young one was short of temper and she found it amusing to set him off.

* * *

R'han sank into the water a small sigh escaping her, the warm water worked at her muscles and cleaned away the grim that had smeared her face, hair, and body. Spotting a chunk of soap to her left she reached forward lifting herself out of the water only an inch, but far enough to hear the young Knights breath tighten.

Gritting her teeth she sank deeper into the water rubbing the soap against her skin turning it a sensitive pink and unwrapping her hair from its long braid, as she dunked her head under preparing to scrub the sweat, blood, and dirt that had caked to her scalp. As she surfaced R'han felt a difference in the room an almost deadly silence that made her suppress a cold shiver.

"Arthur wishes to speak with you, make haste with your bath."

Reaching back she began the tedious task of soaping and rinsing her hair. Taking no more than five minutes she was surprised to feel someone approach her back, the footsteps though loud, were soft. Varona.

"Give me your hair. I'll brush it out so you can braid it."

R'han paused before leaning back, her shoulders stiff with unease, though to her displeasure she found herself relaxing as the brush ran through her hair. She had a strange weakness when she came to her hair.

* * *

Once again R'han found herself in the chamber of the round table, surrounded by Knights and servants with nosey attitudes. R'han shifted her weight; the tight dress she wore was itchy and served only to frustrate her. Though she was grateful for the clean clothes she would forever prefer breeches and a tunic to a barmaids dress.

"You seem uncomfortable, is the dress not to your liking?"

R'han looked to Arthur wondering if he truly wanted her to answer or if it was just a question to break the silence, "I prefer breeches," was all she said.

Arthur merely nodded and sat down, his wife placing her hand over his for reassurance, "We have noticed as of late you're growing anxiousness to leave your room…and I feel as does my Knights, that it would benefit you to be more social."

R'han stared at Arthur in disbelief. Was Arthur crazy? Could he not tell that his Knights only wished for her death? And the moment she saw an escape she would take it?

"What do you want in return?"

"Your cooperation."


End file.
